Memory of Life, Death
by rawrrkitty
Summary: To be forgotten is a fate worse than death – but we will never forget you. A true story for a lonely girl.


Note – This is a gift for **you** because I know **you'll** appreciate it. None of us will forget **her**. I wanted to write this for **you** because I know that **you're **lonely and that this will help you somewhere in **your** heart.

This oneshot is based on a true story – yeah, real life and everything. Please appreciate that if you have any hurtful comments to make. It could really destroy someone, alright? The only things that aren't true are the characters, of course. I thought they fit. No real names are mentioned, you should know why, right? But yeah...I saw a huge connection bewteen Jemima and the actual girl, Demeter and...well, just read it, if you dare.

Oh, and the cats have extremely human characteristics for the sake of the real life story behind it.

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own CATS, but I certainly like to play with the characters.

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**Memory of Life, Death**

_To be forgotten is a fate worse than death – but we will never forget you. A true story for a lonely girl._

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Jemima was born on a very special night – the night of the Jellicle Moon. To cats, this represented a sort of New Year's Eve. Munkustrap stood, forehead shiny with sweat, as his mate moaned and screamed at the pain of birthing.

But the result was worth it.

"My beautiful Jemima," Demeter cooed. And Munkustrap lifted his darling baby into his arms and showered a thousand kisses across her cheeks.

They nurtured the kitten as she grew. Almost from birth, she had a friend – Etcetera. They were always together. They opened their eyes together, learnt how to walk and speak together, had baths together (as young kittens often do) and seemed to wear identical frocks and dresses on many an occasion (though that may have been planned out by their mothers). Their adoring parents would take hundreds of shots and slot them into special photo albums (Jemima's First Birthday, Jemima's Kittenhood).

As Jemima grew, her life changed. She went from being carefully bathed in the sink to having showers in her Papa's arms (Demeter had the nerve to sneak in and take pictures) to eventually being big enough to sit in an actual bathtub. Demeter loved putting shampoo through Jemima's fur and twisting it into curls (more photographs were taken, of course – Demeter crouched by the tub and grinning mischievously with a naked Jemima giggling with ridiculous, soapy hairdos).

Her parents lovingly designed her room. At Jemima's insistence, numerous plush toys were bought (Jemima still owns them all) and everything was decorated in bright colors (to keep the monsters away in the dark). Even so, Jemima often crept into her parents' room to sleep with the comfort of her mother.

Once, Jemima got an ear infection (she was actually quite happy – she could skip her ballet lessons!) and Demeter told her a story to comfort her. Jemima liked frogs, and so Demeter said, "Jemima, there's a tadpole living in your ear." So Jemima was okay with the pain, as long as she was helping the good little tadpole. When the infection healed, Demeter said, "Why, it must have turned into a frog and jumped out!"

At the side, Munkustrap dryly added, "And then I ate it."

One day, Munkustrap received word of a wedding.

"Bombalurina and Tugger!" he exclaimed. "About time, too!"

So off they went to the wedding. Munkustrap was dressed in his finest, most dashing black suit. It made Jemima giggle to see him so well-dressed. Demeter was outfitted in a lovely white cocktail dress. After many protests, Jemima was forcibly stuffed into a little pink dress, her feet slipped into a lovely pair of sandals. She moped and whined and dragged at Demeter's paw. But Demeter was resolute in her choice of outfit – she loved seeing her darling princess look so pretty. She always used any excuse to dress her up.

At the wedding, a group photo was snapped. There, beside the newly wedded couple, was a smiling Munkustrap and a laughing Demeter, who held the sulking Jemima's paw.

Little did anyone know that this would be one of Demeter's last smiles.

"Munkustrap," Demeter gasped out on the journey home. "I've got a bad stomach ache. Can you stop the car for a moment?"

"O-okay." Munkustrap pulled over and glanced over at his mate, face terse with worry. Jemima slept on in her car seat, thumb placed in her mouth.

Demeter clutched at her stomach and hunched over, face twisted in pain. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "Doctor," she choked.

It was bad news. That day, Demeter was diagnosed with cancer. They couldn't tell whether she was to live or die.

She'd always been a delicate queen – she had come to the Jellicles from a different region. Perhaps their diet had upset her digestive system. No one ever found out for sure.

Jemima had no idea what was happening. All she knew was that something was wrong with her Mama (her smiles were so tight and forced) and that Munkustrap was in a frenzy. It scared Jemima. Demeter stayed away from home for a while and Munkustrap explained that she was sick and needed to get better at a hospital. Jemima didn't understand.

When Demeter finally did come home, her face was still drawn, her smiles wrong. She took to lying on the couch all day. Munkustrap would always fuss over her. Jemima didn't know what to do. There was one memory that was always clear in her mind.

"Jemi," Demeter called, her face strained. "Could you please bring me a popsicle? You can have one too."

Jemima ran straight to the fridge and ripped out two popsicles. She tore the wrappers off. The she ran straight to Demeter and tenderly handed her one.

Demeter's face lit up. "Thank you, Jemi," she whispered, closing her eyes. Together, they licked their popsicles, not minding that they were melting and making their paws sticky.

That was the last day Demeter was allowed to be home. The next day, Munkustrap drove her back to the hospital.

Jemima was _lonely_. She didn't like playing with Etcetera anymore and Munkustrap was always too busy. Auntie Bomba came round but it just wasn't the same as spending time with her own Mama. Every night she cried into her pillow and Munkustrap would come in for a goodnight kiss and cry with her.

Munkustrap decided to take Jemima to the hospital to visit Demeter one day. She felt a strange tingling of anticipation and nervousness. It had been _ages_ since she had seen Demeter. She was naturally very shy (she was terrified of strangers). Somehow, over time, she had grown to think of her Mama as someone to be afraid of.

And that scared her.

Demeter looked different. She looked too frail alone in that hospital bed, eyes fogged and face twisted into lines of pain. But when she saw Jemima, her face lit up. It had been so long... and to Jemima, Demeter's familiar face seemed that of a stranger's.

"My baby, my beautiful baby," she whispered, holding out a paw. Jemima held it, but she didn't speak a word. She was too afraid – too _shy_.

She would always be ashamed of herself for her weakness.

So they went home. Demeter's pallid face haunted Jemima's every thought.

A week later, Munkustrap asked Jemima if she wanted to see Demeter again. Jemima refused to the offer – she was too nervous to go and see that familiar stranger once more.

She would always be ashamed of herself for her weakness.

When Munkustrap came home, Jemima saw on his face an expression she would never forget. Grief. Pure grief, shattering the stoic tom. Tears flowed down his face. Tugger had to support him – Munkustrap couldn't walk alone.

Fear bit into Jemima's heart.

"Gone," Munkustrap choked. "Dead."

**Gone.**

**Dead.**

Jemima ran. She didn't know where to run, but she had to run. She hid in the pantry and pulled the doors shut and cried and cried and cried. When she pulled the pantry doors shut, she pulled shut the doors to her heart.

It all had to go on, of course. Jemima started school (she was only five and she had no mother) and learned things. She was still shy, awfully so. Perhaps the lack of a mother had worsened her lack of confidence. Her first friend at that school (Etcetera went to a different school) left her for 'better', less shy friends. Jemima often found herself in frustrated, lonely tears. But life went on. Cassandra, her stepmother, came into her life. She was nothing like Demeter.

One night, Jemima stared at a photograph of her Mama on the wall. A picture that she had drawn of her at the age of four. A tear trailed down her cheek. She pulled out a crayon and added flowing wings of white plumage to her drawing.

"Are you watching me, Mama?" she asked the sky.

_The dead are never truly gone. As long as they are remembered, their life can linger in our world._

As long as her Mama will always watch her, Jemima can keep on going.

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Note: Sorry for bringing depressingness into the CATS archive. I felt this story needed to be written. The ending seems lacking to me, but I can't change it cause it's what I happen to know is the real ending.

I hope that **you **will find comfort in this. **You** and of course, **me**.


End file.
